


like sweet morning dew

by rainbowysl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, aj respectfully requests that canon take a hike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowysl/pseuds/rainbowysl
Summary: With every family dinner, every fishing trip, every walk through the woods, there’s a nagging, an itch at the back of his mind. Like putting together a puzzle and finding out the piece in the middle got lost during packaging.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 170





	like sweet morning dew

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't watched supernatural in at least 8 years but i put my clown nose on for 2 episodes and they pied me in the face. hopefully this eases the sting a bit, especially for y'all who were invested to the end.
> 
> thank you to the fic clique discord for hyping me up about this and to brenna for beta'ing on a moments notice. i love y'all!
> 
> i found out the dog's name was miracle but i hated that and this is my story so i renamed him. everyone meet Bug.
> 
> title from "you're all i need to get by" by marvin gaye and tammi terrell

Heaven ain’t so bad. It’s a lot like being alive, but nothing hurts. He can eat as much as he wants without getting full, can stay awake as long as he wants without getting tired. He can swim without coming up for air.

He has dinner with his parents and Sam and goes fishing with Bobby and hunting with Rufus. He drinks the best beer he’s ever tasted and plays every card game under the sun with Jo and Ellen.

Bug, the dog they’d picked up after their run-in with Chuck, had shown up while Dean was out on his drive, and had curled up at Bobby’s feet only to bound toward Dean the second he opened the door of the Impala. And so he sits on the porch with Bobby on one side, Sam on the other, and Bug at his feet and he’s content. Happy, actually, for maybe the first time in his life. There’s no one to save and nothing to hunt and he’s finally at ease. 

But with every family dinner, every fishing trip, every walk through the woods with Bug—woods that are always in fall, because this is Dean’s heaven and he can do what he wants—there’s a nagging, an itch at the back of his mind. Like putting together a puzzle and finding out the piece in the middle got lost during packaging. He still smiles, and means it, because he _is_ happy but he catches Sam giving him _those_ looks. Bobby’s quieter on their fishing trips or sitting out on the porch in their rocking chairs, like he’s waiting for Dean to say something. Mary runs her hand through his hair when they sit on the couch after family dinners, gentle as can be, just like when he was a little kid. Even Bug seems to be able to tell something’s wrong, resting his head on Dean’s knee and looking up at him with sad eyes.

“What do you want, Dean?” Bobby had asked.

And so one day he gathers them all together, the whole gang crowded together into John and Mary’s living room and tells them he has to go. 

“Where?” Jo asks. 

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know.” He looks up at all of them, but no one seems particularly surprised or concerned. Instead, Sam stands up and gives him a hug, patting him on the back. Mary kisses his cheek and John claps a hand on his shoulder. They send him out the door with smiles and wishes of good luck and he waves back as he walks away with a promise to be back soon. 

“Ready, Bug?” He asks. Bug gives a soft _woof_ in response and they head off into the woods. 

They walk for a while, trees covered in the golds and reds of fall, until they come upon a clearing. Bug rolls around joyfully in the leaves on the ground while Dean looks on with a small smile. 

“Hello, Dean,” comes a voice from his right, and Dean jumps a little. 

“Jack!” Dean wraps him up in a hug, Jack gripping back just as tightly. Bug gets up from the ground and runs around their feet, barking happily. 

They pull back and Jack gives Bug an affectionate scratch behind the ears. Bug licks his hand. 

“I cannot stay long,” Jack says. 

“Ah,” Dean replies. “God stuff?”

Jack smiles. “Something like that.” He pauses, his face turning more serious. “What are you looking for, Dean?”

Dean puts his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know.”

Jack catches his eye, smiling again. “I think you do.” A breeze comes in suddenly from the other end of the clearing, kicking leaves into the air around Dean and Jack. “It’s time for me to go. I’ll see you soon, Dean.” And Dean blinks and he’s gone. 

He stares for a moment at the empty space where Jack had been. Bug bumps his nose up against Dean’s hand and licks his fingers when Dean looks down. They walk on, to the other side of the clearing, the trees closing around them once again, and where Dean has always felt a healthy dose of fear in the woods—you never know what monster is lurking in those shadows—he feels nothing but peace here. He shudders a little, though, thinking of the stark difference between this and the woods of Purgatory. The woods that never ended no matter how far you walked or how fast you ran. Full of shadows and hopelessness and things that went bump in the night. And Cas. Cas, whose hand he can still feel slipping out of his own if he lets himself think about it long enough, watching with horror as the portal home closed behind him.

He comes back to himself, shaking out of the memory, just in time to see Bug take off like a shot.

“Bug!” He’s not particularly worried, since this is heaven and all, it’s not like something bad will happen, but he’s never seen Bug act this way. “Son of a bitch,” he swears under his breath, and takes off running after his dog. He bursts out of the woods onto the shore of an enormous lake, Bug still nowhere to be seen. When he looks out at the view in front of him, the familiarity is so striking he almost doubles over with the weight of it. Tall grass lines the edge of the lake, water lapping lazily at the shoreline. In the corner of his eye, there is something brown floating in the water, among the grass, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest. When he turns to look properly, though, it’s just some driftwood, bobbing and bumping against the shore.

The relief of it—not a trench coat, not Cas, I’m not back there, I’m okay—knocks the breath out of him and his knees give out from under him as he sits heavily in the dirt. He holds his head in his hands and breathes slowly, _in_ _for 4, hold for 7, out for 8_. _I’m in heaven_ , he reminds himself. _Everything is okay here, Cas isn’t dead, Cas is—_

Not here. Cas is not here, and Dean stands up so fast he almost overcompensates and goes pitching forward, catching himself at the last minute. He feels dizzy with it, both the sudden change in position and the realization of how monumentally, incredibly stupid he is. Of course he’d know what he was looking for, Jack was right. He starts walking, letting his feet carry him along, somehow knowing exactly where he needs to go, walking along the shore of the lake. He rounds a corner and there’s his dog, tail wagging delightedly, jumping up excitedly on—

Cas. His trench coat is nowhere to be seen; instead he’s dressed comfortably in a pair of worn jeans and a button up with the sleeves rolled to just under his elbows. He’s really there, in front of Dean, playing with Bug and grinning from ear to ear. 

There’s so much he wants to say, all of it building up in his throat, threatening to spill out all at once but all that comes out is, “ _Cas._ ” It’s hardly louder than a whisper but it’s loud enough for Cas to finally look up and meet his gaze. Dean barely even feels his feet carrying him forward until he’s right in front of Cas, Bug sitting quietly between their feet.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean chokes out a laugh. He wants to reach out, wants to _touch_ , but he holds himself back, so his hands just flutter awkwardly at his side.

“It’s really you?” Dean says, his voice cracking.

“It’s really me.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks.”

Dean takes a breath and then surges forward, wrapping Cas up in a hug, clinging on like he’ll float off into the sky without Cas to anchor him down. For a second, Cas just stands there, stock still, like he’s so surprised he can’t move, and Dean almost panics before Cas wraps his arms around Dean and holds on just as tight. Dean tucks his nose into the crook of Cas’s neck and breathes him in. He doesn’t smell like anything, really, not even the odd scent of grace anymore. Just like...Cas. They pull apart after what could have been minutes or hours or weeks, who can be sure when time passes so differently here, and grin stupidly at each other for a minute.

“Bobby said you helped build this place,” Dean says, finally. “But you weren’t…you weren’t there, so I thought…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what he thought.

Cas’ smile falls. “I did not wish to make you...uncomfortable.” 

“Cas-”

“I never expected you to return my feelings,” Cas continues. “And all I wish is for you to be happy, for your heaven to be perfect-”

“It’s not perfect without you,” Dean blurts out. “There was always something missing, Cas, always something wrong, even with how happy I was, I’ve been so stupid.”

“Dean, what-”

“I love you, too.” It comes spilling out in a rush, but it’s finally, _finally_ out in the open, hanging in the air between them. 

Cas stares at him. “You…”

“Love you. Yeah.”

Cas stands rooted to the spot, like if he moves he’ll spook Dean or something, so Dean moves first, fisting his hands in the front of Cas’ shirt and pulling him in. Cas stumbles forward, and Dean can vaguely feel Bug skittering out of the way, but hardly notices anything past the way Cas’ lips feel on his. He revels in the way it feels, incredible, inevitable. Cas’ hands tangle in his hair and he thinks he could just melt away, it could all end right here and now and he’d be content. They pull away eventually, but only because Bug sticks his face right in between their legs, trying to wiggle in and be part of whatever’s going on, and they both start laughing too hard to do anything but lean their foreheads together.

Dean lets go of Cas’ shirt and twines their hands together instead. “Come home?”

Cas nods against Dean’s forehead. “Yeah,” he breathes.

\---

No one seems particularly surprised to see Cas walk in with Dean for dinner that night. Sam glances at their joined hands and rolls his eyes with a grin, as if to say “yeah, about time.” Mary wraps him in a hug and sets out an extra place at the table, and when they walk back to the cabin, Bobby raises his beer and nods at the fourth chair that’s appeared on the porch. Cas is a solid presence at his side, his hand warm in Dean’s own and when they sit in their chairs side by side, it feels like the missing puzzle piece finally sliding into place.

**Author's Note:**

> to the supernatural fandom that stuck with this show to the very end and ended up disappointed: i'm sorry. i hope this helps at least a little and i hope in the future you can find a show that feeds your soul in the same way and respects and loves you back


End file.
